


Maybe When You're Older

by GrumpyJenn



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Timey-Wimey, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is this woman, this mysterious River Song? Not just any human... but who?</p><p>Takes place primarily between the Byzantium crash and A Good Man Goes to War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Big Bang 2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areyoumarriedriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts).



“River Song, I could bloody kiss you!” He meant it when he said it, though he’d only met her twice before. It wasn’t the sort of thing he said to his companions as a rule, but then River Song wasn’t like any other companion, was she? She was... different. He wished he could put his finger on _how_ she was different, _why._.. perhaps it was that she was a time traveller, but even Jack Harkness hadn’t affected him this way, and she _was_ different... but he couldn’t seem to nail it down...

“Maybe when you’re older,” she said with a sexy little smirk, interrupting his train of thought with the suggested promise, but there was something... something that looked sad, _lost_ , behind her eyes. He hoped he hadn’t put it there but he was afraid he had. Would. Eventually. In his future, her past.

And a little later for them both, as they stood on that windswept beach - _oh_ how goodbyes on windswept beaches made his hearts ache in spite of the flirting that was almost automatic when it came to River Song- she promised she’d see him soon, when the Pandorica opened. The Pandorica. Ha! A fairy tale, he told her, a myth. And she had laughed and suggested - always _suggesting,_ River Song was - that they were _all_ fairy tales... so he said he looked forward to it, him flirting with _her_ this time rather than the other way round.

And then it was all _can I trust you River Song_ and _if you like but where’s the fun in that?_ and that look crossed her face again, for a split second and he _knew_. He knew that he would - had, no, _would_ \- hurt her with those words as well. By not trusting her perhaps, later in his timeline and earlier in hers.

It wasn’t when the Pandorica opened though; the Doctor trusted River there. Then. Had to, no choice really, because she could fly the TARDIS (as well as he could, actually, though the less said about _that_ the better). Even if she did graffiti the oldest cliff in the universe, cause dozens of men to hallucinate, impersonate Egyptian queens, and steal paintings... even after all _that_ he trusted her. He didn’t really know why - she was to all appearances a time-travelling human, probably a rogue Time Agent like Jack Harkness had been, she admitted freely that she had killed one of the best men she’d ever known, and she was infuriatingly superior about her ‘spoilers’; he was growing to loathe the word - but he did... he trusted her.

And may the universe help him, he fancied her too.

“Hi honey. I’m home.” He said it with as much casual insouciance as he could manage, leaning against the wall. Part of him - the part that saw past the cocky overconfidence to the beautiful and intriguing woman - wanted her to throw herself into his arms so he could take care of her and make everything right for her. And another part of him knew that while that might be nice - a warm armful of quivering and frightened River Song in his arms - it was too... common a reaction, the sort of reaction any companion might have, and... and...

...he didn’t really know why that thought disturbed him.

But she didn’t. She didn’t leap into his arms and she didn’t get all quivery and soft against him, and the better part of him felt relief as she checked her wrist as though looking at a watch, saying in a fondly exasperated tone, “And what sort of time do you call this?” He was very careful to keep hold of the hand she looped through his arm as they used the vortex manipulator to get back to Earth, and even when she and Amy ganged up on him to destroy his fez he was more annoyed than angry.

Until the Dalek appeared. Daleks made the Doctor angry under the best of circumstances, which these clearly were not, and the fact that _this_ \- not the end of the universe, not being trapped in the eternally exploding TARDIS, but a single Dalek - was what made River Song blanch with fear... that made him _very_ angry. And the expression fleeting over her face when he told her the Dalek was due to kill him in four-and-a-half minutes... that _look_ again; it made his hearts ache to see it, and simultaneously made them exult that it was his imminent death that caused it. She cared.  River Song cared about him... it wasn’t just the _sweeties_ and the _my loves_... she really did care, enough that the thought of his death hurt her terribly.

It made the Doctor feel rather humbled, and humility was not a sensation with which he was well acquainted. And he knew how much it hurt her that he asked for Amy at the last, but he couldn’t help it, he needed... he... no energy left for long goodbyes, on a windswept beach or... or anywhere. Just Amy, little Amelia Pond, the Girl Who Waited. He hoped he’d see River again, please, please, please Amy, the universe needs you to remember, and I need, I need...

But as always, they saved the day, saved and restarted the universe, and he floated - if _floated_ was the word - in the nothingness that was the void between time and space. Until Amy remembered him... with the help of a blue book of memories from River Song, though she didn’t know it. Amy, that is, not River. He thought River probably knew it, as she came from his future and he from hers and... and... _old, new, borrowed, blue_... and there he was, in his tuxedo in Amy’s back garden. He’d danced with everyone at the wedding, and the women were all brilliant but the men were shy. Silly twenty-first century, they thought they were so sophisticated and... and there she was.

River Song.

“Did you dance? Well, you always dance at weddings, don't you?”

He didn’t know. Did he? He hadn’t been to that many weddings, not proper ones at any rate. At Sarah Jane’s he’d been there to stop it, and so... “You tell me,” he said, and River’s eyes sparkled at him as she said _that_ word, the one he’d come to hate, but the _way_ she said it... the way her lips pursed around it and her tongue... _well._ He kind of loved that bit, in spite of the word. And so he had to ask. “Are you married, River?”

“Are you asking?” Her voice was husky.

“Yes.” No more than his.

“Yes.” It was said matter-of-factly, but he had to know.

“No. Hang on. Did you think I was asking you to marry me or asking if you were married?”

“Yes.” Okay, now she was just playing with him. But he couldn’t stop himself.

“No, but was that yes or yes?”

“ _Yes._ ” There it was again. The _suggestion_.

“River. Who are you?” And that one half of his mind did it again, babbling at him with _I have to know, please, I really want to know, because I don’t understand why you... why you are_ you _. Why you affect me like this. Please._

“You're going to find out very soon now. And I'm sorry. But that's when everything changes.”

And then she was gone. But he had hope, because even though she said she was sorry, he would know more soon... very soon.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. The Moon

“This is cold,” River Song said, with her tight and angry face and voice on, “Even by your standards this is cold.”

 _What’s this,_ the Doctor thought, _what’ve I done? Or... oh. What_ will _I do?_ “Or ‘hello’ as people used to say,” he said with that carelessness he sometimes did deliberately to buy time to think. _She’s not the only one_ , he thought, _Amy’s angry too, or maybe... sad? or hurt or shocked or... and Rory, well... hard to tell with Rory, but..._

River Song was _definitely_ angry - the red mark on his cheek was proof of that - even though he had tried hard to defuse the situation with the flirtatious behaviour he usually shared with River. Or maybe he didn’t yet, by her timeline or... oh, he didn’t know, but now _he_ was angry; she had hit him - hard - for something he hadn’t even done yet. He was looking forward to it, because if she was going to hit him, he certainly wanted to do whatever had caused it. And then they were under the console and teasing him by keeping their voices down to where he could barely hear them; he couldn’t hear all the words, and how was he to know what to _do_ if he didn’t have all the information?

So in spite of his deliberate attempts to jolly them out of their mood, his own was getting darker, so he decided to hell with it, he’d convince them to leave - for their own safety of course - and if he had to be an arse to accomplish that, well then. “Don't play games with me. Don't ever, ever think you're capable of that.”

 **“** You're going to have to trust us this time.” Not very likely.

 **“** Trust you. Sure. But first of all, Doctor Song, just one thing. Who are you? You're someone from my future - getting that - but who?” No response. _“_ Okay. Why are you in prison? Who did you kill? Hm?” She couldn’t even answer him, just gave him that tight look again. It made him terribly angry and he heard himself say, _“_ Now I love a bad girl, me. But trust you? Seriously?” and at the look on her face he cursed himself internally for hurting her - _again_ \- even as he promised to trust Amy after she swore on fish custard.

But River had clearly forgiven him by the time they were looking up President Nixon on the monitors, treating him with her normal flirty banter, as though he had never... The ache around his hearts eased a bit as he realised - again - that if she could sacrifice her very life for his sake as she had/would in the Libr... no. Best not think about that... that way laid hearts-ache and pain and guilt and... right. Best not.

River worked out the invisibility on the TARDIS. She told him she hated him when he called her Mrs. Robinson, but he knew that was at least partly a joke. She knew the answer to the riddle of the three Founding Fathers’ names. She flirted with him in Florida and he flirted right back (after all, he _was_ hot when he was clever, and he was always clever). She had the tech and the experience to deal with the space suit, and she looked after Canton and she made jokes about being a screamer.

It was really too bad she was human. Because she was the closest thing to someone who could keep up he’d met in _ages._ But - he heaved a sigh - no matter how much he fancied her, how much she could keep up, she _was_ only human. And he couldn’t take advantage of... not again. Not after Rose and Sarah Jane, the other two he had truly... right. Well.

But after she dove off a building - trusting that he would catch her, with nothing more than date, time, and place from Canton as coordinates - after _that_ he could only return that trust. Never mind the sacrifice in the Library - he shuddered but didn’t shy away from the thought this time - the important thing was that she trusted him to be there when she needed him.

And he trusted her.

Even though she told him things like _it won’t work_ or _it’s impossible_ or _you won’t learn anything from that envelope_ , he trusted her. Maybe it was that when she said these things she... helped him to work it through, to figure out how it _could_ work or _why_ it wouldn’t. She’d ask him questions that helped along his train of thought - or brought it back on track when it got derailed.

And oh _boy_ , she could even keep up with him - while flirting no less - in the sort of situation that they found themselves in with the Silence. Even if she was rude about the screwdriver. He was using it to help; he was interrupting their electricity building until she could spin around with the disruptor pistol and _oh_ he shouldn’t like that but he kinda did a bit (it made his knees wibbly) and... and... oh why fuss? He was _proud_ of her, his friend River, taking on the Silence like that.

And then... **“** You could come with us.” He really _really_ wanted her to. It didn’t have to be a big thing; she could be like any other companion...

“I escape often enough, thank you. And I have a promise to live up to. You'll understand soon enough.” Oh _damn_. No hope for it. Better make it seem like it doesn’t matter to you, Time Lord.

“Okay. Up to you. See you next time. Call me!” He was sure she must have his number; she’d said he wouldn’t answer his phone after all, and... but she was calling him back!

“What? That's it? What's the matter with you?” She truly looked... concerned? Annoyed? He must have forgotten something...

“Have I forgotten something?”

“Oh... shut up,” she said, and pulled him to her by the back of his neck (and when had her hand gotten there?) and she was kissing him and he was kissing her back and her lips and her tongue and her breath and... and now his hands were flailing around like great clumsy birds and... oh her hair, so _soft_ and the skin of her shoulder was even softer and when her arms went round his waist he pulled away. And looked at her with a strange but almost elated mixture of desire and panic.

“Right. Okay. Interesting.” Oh how lame. Can’t you come up with anything better than _that_?

“What's wrong? You're acting like we've never done that before.” But we haven’t, at least not by my timeli... oh. _Oh._

“We haven't,” he said, and succumbed to the panic at the expression on her face. “Oh, look at the time. Must be off. But it was very nice. It was... good. It was unexpected. You know what they say, ‘There's a first time for everything...’.” And he closed the doors of the TARDIS behind him.

And slumped to the floor, back against the door. Oh, her _face_. That same expression of numb blankness, not fleeting this time, and there because of him. _Again_. But... but - his mind was gibbering at him again - but she’s just human, how could he possibly...?

The Doctor stood up and went to talk with Amy.

 


	3. Demon's Run

“Look closer,” said Dorium. “Human Plus. Specifically Human plus Time Lord.”

Amy and Rory’s baby was human plus Time Lord? How did that happen? The Doctor and Vastra talked about it and... oh. Right, well, they don’t send up a balloon, do they? But something was wrong. Something was very _very_ wrong, because little Melody had been conceived in the vortex, and born here on Demon’s Run, but they let her go. Let her go so _easily_... something was very... oh no. No no no no _no_...

 _Oh, Amelia,_ he thought, near tears himself. _How could they, how_...?

But they had. They’d replaced baby Melody with a ganger, made Amelia and Rory suffer through a parent’s worst nightmare. And people had _died_ , were dying, and the girl... Lorna, he didn’t know her but she knew him, and she was dying too and it was all his _fault_ and...

...and that was when River Song finally - _finally_ \- showed up and gave him a place to put all his guilt and rage. _She hadn’t been here._ He had come to help every time she’d asked him to, and the _one time_ he’d called her... she hadn’t been here. He turned on her, shouting, but she was very calm, even making little asides to Amy to help her, and then she let him have it and she pulled no punches. _He_ was the reason for this, all of it done for fear of him. Lorna’s people thought him a great warrior and... and River Song knew all this. It sounded _true_ , much as he hated to believe it. Someone - a whole group of someones - was so afraid of him that they’d taken a child, the child of his best friends. To train her up to bring him low. How did she know? How _could_ she know? He had to ask.

“Who are you?” She skipped away toward the cot he’d brought out for Melody, teasing him, and the bubbling anger surfaced again. “No. Tell me who you are.”

“I _am_ telling you,” River said in the gentlest voice the Doctor’d heard her use since the Library, and showed him the prayer leaf Lorna had made for baby Melody. But...

But that meant...

“River, get them all home,” the Doctor said, because he could trust her.

\---/--- 

She was still standing there at the open door to her cell when the TARDIS materialised in its usual spot. Her face still wore the lost and blank expression from when he had left. It must have been only moments ago for her, and his hearts ached anew at the sight. He felt constrained, like he couldn’t move toward her, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat several times before he could speak. Even then his voice was hoarse. “River.”

That numb half-smirk didn’t change but her eyes focussed on him as she said in a dull and tired voice, “Yes.” Just the one word, but it freed him and he was able to move, to walk toward her and enfold her in his arms, her head nestled under his chin and her curls tickling his nose.

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” It was barely a whisper. “I’m so _so_ sorry.” _Lovely_ , the always-thinking part of him thought sardonically, _reverting to my former self_ , but then her arms stole around his waist and she rested her head in the curve between neck and shoulder and let out one long, shuddering sigh. “You could come with me,” he murmured into the wild curls and she shook her head against his throat.

“I’ve still got that promise to live up to,” she said quietly, and he felt her lips curve into a proper smile against the skin just above his collar. “It’s only been a few minutes for me.” He pulled back to look at her face.

“She’s a time machine,” he offered, smiling into the green eyes, “We could bring you back whenever you need to be.” She looked at him soberly.

“What made you come back for me?” River asked gently. “And where did you come from?” At his questioning look she smiled. “Changed your bowtie, sweetie,” and she reached up to straighten it, giving it a little pat.

The Doctor sighed. “Demon’s Run,” he said, and closed his eyes against the pain and the guilt. “I came back because I _could_ ,” he whispered. “I didn’t think I c... when I left here, I thought you were _human_ , and I couldn’t... I was afraid I would _hurt_ you, River, more than leaving you here would hurt you and I... mmph.” The last word was muffled as she laid her lips softly and almost questioningly on his.

And _oh_ , he thought, she had forgiven him - again - and her lips and her tongue and _oh_ were those her _teeth_? and the thinking part of him noted that her human-Time Lord hybrid status meant that she was warmer than him but not as warm as a human... and the gibbering part of him was just babbling, _warm soft lips hair teeth skin ohhh_... as the kiss went on and on... and finally she gave a breathy little moan into his mouth and he pulled away before his knees could go completely wibbly. “Older now,” he muttered and she looked at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. He waved a hand. “Sorry. Spoilers. You once said you’d maybe kiss me when I’m older.” He felt the silly grin bloom on his face and held a hand out to her. “Shall we, Doctor Song?” he asked, nodding toward the TARDIS, and she accepted the hand and smiled at him and his knees nearly gave way anyway.

Several hours - or was it eons - later, the Doctor watched his River Song as she slept. Her bare skin glowed as though it had been dusted with gold in the soft light of his bedroom, and one errant curl waved back and forth with her even breaths. She loved him, he marvelled, it wasn’t just words for her. And more importantly she _trusted_ him. Because of things he hadn’t even done yet in his own time line. He hoped he’d do them right, because if he didn’t... (“Not one line,” she had said, “Don’t you dare.”) And as much as he cared for Amy and Rory, now it came down to them getting their baby back or River’s request that he not change her history... there was no contest. River Song wins any contest, against anyone in the universe, because he could _trust_ her in ways he couldn’t trust anyone else. He shouldn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction in that, but he kinda did a bit.

His musing was interrupted by River stirring and then stretching, which did... interesting things to the way the light played along the curves of her skin. “Hello,” he said, smiling at her.

“Hello.” She smiled too.

“I truly am sorry, River,” he said, “I never meant to...” he trailed off as she put her hand to his lips.

“Not now, my love,” she said softly. “Spoilers. Just...” she kissed him, long and sweet. “For now, just be _now_. With me. Please?” He nodded and bent his head to kiss her gently as the TARDIS spun off into the night.


End file.
